Deafening Silence
by Kina-chan
Summary: Ellis was afraid of the silence, afraid of the queries his mind seemed to come up with when there wasn't anything to distract him. That's why he was always talking about something or another, though he knows it drives the other three in their group crazy.


**Title:** Deafening Silence

**Author:** livelife_2010

**Rating:** PG/PG-13 (for violence and mild language)

**Pairing:** light Nick/Ellis, pre-slash

**Summary:** Ellis was afraid of the silence, afraid of the queries his mind seemed to come up with when there wasn't anything to distract him. That's why he was always talking about something or another, even though he knows it drives the other three in their group crazy – Nick in particular.

**Word Count:** 5,732

Ellis was always talking. When he wasn't reminiscing on times shared with his buddies Keith or Dave, he was verbalizing whatever random nonsense filtered through his mind or going on about the zombie apocalypse. What the others in their makeshift team of four failed to recognize was that the mechanic's constant talking was simply a means of ignoring more sobering subjects that picked at the young man's mind like those annoying, little mosquitoes that seemed hell bent on making their journey through the stifling southern heat even more problematic than need-be. Frankly, Ellis was afraid of the quiet that swallowed up their little group when his constant chatting didn't replace the deafening silence.

Sometimes situations called for silence, though. At those times, Ellis was left vulnerable to the attack of his mind's queries. His brain seemed to find it hilarious to place doubts and worries in his mind. He'd start questioning their group's safety and livelihood. His traitorous mind would torture him with the possibility that his mother, Keith, or Dave hadn't made it to safety; worse yet, he'd find himself pondering the possibility that they had succumbed to the infection and were now wandering around aimlessly, waiting for either death or fresh, uninfected meat to stumble into their vicinity.

It was because of his inability to shut his mind off that Ellis's mouth was constantly running. He couldn't stand to stay silent, when his insecurities and fears could wrap around his mind and tear at his optimism. He had to play up his optimism and imprudence so that the other three wouldn't start to question him. Perhaps Coach and Nick wouldn't do more than question his sanity, but he knows that Rochelle would worry more about him. She was very much so the interim mother of their group.

He realizes that his constant talking annoys his teammates, Nick more so than Coach or Rochelle. Coach usually left it to Nick or Rochelle to the task of silencing the youngest of the group. However, when the oldest of the group decided to take matters into his own hands, he was more than affective at making sure Ellis stayed quiet. He wasn't called Coach for nothing. Rochelle tended to take the more motherly approach to shushing him, usually saying something along the lines of, "Is now the best time, sweetie?" Nick was much harsher in his approach. He wasn't afraid to tell Ellis to shut up, his annoyance always evident in his voice and mannerism. Ellis, for some reason, feared Nick's disapproval the most, which was why the conman's approaches to quieting him were most affective in stifling him.

The current silence that is suffocating them is thanks to Nick. About a mile or so ago Nick's patience had broken, once again, and he had yelled at the hick to "shut the hell up." Ellis can see Rochelle throwing disapproving glances to Nick for his malice, but the conman is unaffected by her glares.

Sometimes Ellis wonders what kind of life the older male must have led to cause him to become such a calloused, self-interested man. Ellis himself was rather resilient – life wasn't kind too anyone for too long, and everyone sooner or later has to learn to "man-up," so to speak. Even still, it seemed that the conman was more than just resilient; the way he acted towards them proves that. From what Ellis could tell Nick preferred to be a loner, unattached to anyone or anything. He had admitted to life as a conman, since Ellis had at the beginning of their travels inquired about the man's formal attire and mannerisms. It seems like a rather lonely and sad life to live; at least that's how it seems to Ellis.

The sound of a maniacal laugh pierces the silence and causes the four to tense. Ellis reflexively tightens his grip on his rifle just as Rochelle nervously whispers, "There's a Jockey 'round here." They don't pause, but merely slow their pace in response to the Jockey's laughter. They walk a few more feet, that incessant cackling growing ever louder, before they see the deformed figure of the Special Infected.

"Shit, Jockey!" Coach bellows, immediately firing rounds in the zombie's direction.

Their gunfire successfully takes down the threat, but not before the forewarning screech of the horde slices through the air. Rochelle is cursing under her breath, grabbing the machete off of her back and arming herself for the oncoming horde. They're all running low on ammunition. Coach reaches for the axe on his own back, while Nick methodically reloads his shotgun. Ellis anxiously checks what little ammunition he has left. He has enough to hopefully take out the horde, as long as it's not an obsessively large quantity of the Infected that they're up against. If worst comes to worst, he has the two pistols strapped to his hips.

A rain of gunfire deafens the four as the disheveled, grotesque corpses that make up the horde come barreling towards them. Ellis curses at the sheer numbers of them. Where had they been hiding? While the group had been traveling down the road they hadn't stumbled upon a single zombie, and it's not as if they hadn't been looking for them. Yet more and more Infected come stumbling out of alleyways and crashing through decrepit doorways.

The mayhem of killing the numerous Infected that were now pressing in close around them masked the ominous growling from group's awareness. The four had been forced apart by the horde and the danger of falling prey to the swing of Coach's or Rochelle's melee weapons, or the gunfire from Nick's or Ellis's guns. Nevertheless, it was their distance from one another, and the thick throng of decaying bodies pressing in strong from all around them, that would prove fatal.

Ellis wasn't able to hear the shriek, so he wasn't aware of the danger he was in until he felt something shove against him. The breath was stolen from his lungs as his back made contact with the paved road. For a second he was knocked into a disorientated state, everything around him muffling and going out of focus. Then his senses were screaming as he felt the claws shredding at his chest. His eyes looked up in terror at the face of the Hunter straddling his waist. The zombie's face more than the actual pain is what caused him to scream. He could feel the thing's claws ripping into his flesh, leaving his chest warm and sticky with blood. He didn't know how long the creature had sat astride him, but it felt like hours. The Infected around him took the opportunity to pound at whatever flesh they could get at – mainly his legs and arms, which were dutifully protecting his face from harm.

He noticed the absence of the common zombies first, as his exposed limbs were no longer getting a beating from the decaying stubs of feet and hands. The hunter still had its position atop of him, though, and it delivered a lethal swipe at his neck. The next moment the menace was shoved off of him, and a second later the crack of a rifle pierced the air, nearly deafening Ellis.

Ellis could barely make out the hunched form of Nick, and the forms of Rochelle and Coach polishing off the rest of the zombies. Nick was looming over him, his hands holding onto the sides of his face gently. His mouth was moving rapidly, but Ellis couldn't hear what he was saying. The only thing the young man could hear was the sound of blood drumming through his ears. He was choking on blood, or vomit, he's not entirely sure. Next thing he knows he's being moved onto his side, the movement causing pain to lace through his chest. He immediately cries out and proceeds to empty the contents of his stomach. He feels a warm hand on his shoulder, but past this point he's not sure who it belongs to.

His vision is darkening around the corners, and he can't get a clear visual of who is lifting him up. He's being carried; this much he's aware enough to process. Because of his proximity, he can hear the muffled voice of his carrier, but the blood is pounding too harshly in his ears for him to discern which of the older males is carrying him. He doesn't really have time to ponder it either, because the next moment his world is thrust into darkness.

The pain is what causes Ellis to awaken. The stabbing throbs in his chest and along the left side of his neck cause his eyes to tear up. He starts to cry out, but it hurts too much to do so. He settles on whimpering helplessly instead. He's lying down on a bed in a darkened room. It must be nighttime, because the curtains at the windows are too shredded for them to block any sunlight from entering the room. He notices that he's not wearing his shirt, and because of that he can more easily feel the bandages wrapped around his chest and neck. He rationalizes that he must have been carried to a safe house, one that was carrying first aid kits; he knows they had been without any med kits before the attack.

The thought of the attack has Ellis gasping for breath. He has been the apparent go-to man when it came to being attacked by the Special Infected. He'd been attacked by Smokers, Jockies, Witches, Chargers, and even a Tank once. He'd also been pounced on by Hunters before, but he had never seen the face hiding underneath the hood before. He shudders at the memory, and the action causes him to whimper once more.

He hears movement beside him, and he momentarily wonders if a zombie had managed its way into the room he's occupying. When a light washes over the room, the mechanic realizes how ridiculous he'd been to even consider such an idea. The source of the sudden light reveals itself to be a candle, which is placed on a rickety nightstand beside his bed. The light dances eerily across the walls and highlights the feature of the man sitting close by.

Nick scoots his chair right up against the bed, and to say the younger man was surprised to see the conman would be an understatement. Nick digs around beside the bed and produces a bottle of pills and a water bottle. Upon seeing the two, the pain seems to double fold and Ellis's throat seems to become parched. The older man gently helps Ellis into a sitting position, and then hand feeds the mechanic pills and water. He had tried to do it himself, but the wounds on his chest had protested. Nick replaces the two bottles onto the nightstand and sits back down in his chair.

The room is filled by a heavy silence, as neither of the two are willing to talk. Ellis is waiting for the pain pills to kick in before he even attempts to try speaking again, and Nick was never one for starting up conversation. Still, Ellis can't help but wish for the conman to break his vow of silence. With nothing to distract him, the wounds inflicted upon him seem to throb uncontrollably. He swears he can almost feel his heartbeat throbbing through his wounds.

The light in the room creates a soothing atmosphere that seems to wrap around Ellis like a warm blanket. As the silence stretches on, he feels his eyelids droop. He knows that he should be resting, so that he can heal faster and sleep the brunt of the pain, but he has questions he'd really like answered. However, as soon as he attempts to speak, Nick interrupts him.

"You shouldn't be trying to talk. In fact, you should be trying to go back to sleep."

Ellis can't seem to control himself. The words leave his mouth before he's even aware he was thinking them, "It's kinda hard to sleep seein' as I'm sittin' up an' all." When Nick moves as if to have him lie back down, the mechanic quickly protests. The conman sighs in a frustrated fashion, but makes no further move to reposition him.

The room is once again enveloped in silence. This time the younger man can't stand the silence, and he carefully shifts so that he's sitting in a more comfortable position. He turns to Nick and hopes the man is willing to answer his questions. "What happened?"

"A Hunter took you down, we killed it, we got you here, and we bandaged you up," Nick answers in a monotone.

The younger man frowns. That wasn't quite the detailed explanation he had been expecting and hoping for. He brings a hand wearily up to his neck and winces when he makes contact with the wound. "I thought for sure I was a goner."

Ellis is more than surprised when Nick abruptly stands and heads out of the room without a word. The door to the room shuts loudly behind the man, and Ellis just stares at the obstruction in confusion. Was it something he'd said?

A few minutes later the door opens again, and Rochelle gingerly steps into the room. Ellis brightens slightly upon seeing her; the woman always seems to help calm him down. She really is very much like a mother, to him especially. It must be some kind of woman thing, because it certainly can't be their ages; Rochelle isn't that much older that Ellis.

Rochelle smiles tiredly but warmly as she walks over to the chair Nick had sat in. "I'm glad to see you finally awake," she says. "We were starting to think you weren't planning on ever wakin' up."

"Why's that?"

"Well, sweetie, you've been asleep for more than a day now. We've been in this safe house for at least thirty or so hours, probably more… seeing as the sun hadn't even gone down when we originally made it here."

Ellis doesn't believe it. It didn't feel like he'd been asleep for so long.

Rochelle chuckles slightly. "Nick… he didn't leave this room once while you were out. Coach and I tried to make him go rest, but he insisted that he wasn't moving. He was pretty shaken up."

The mechanic really doesn't believe this bit of information. If the conman was seemingly so worried about him, then why had he been so abrasive when he'd awoken? However, Rochelle's words remind Ellis of a question he had previously asked Nick. "Ro'… wha' happened? All I remember is the Hunter, an' that's 'bout it."

The woman sighs and looks down at her hands a moment before clasping his hand nearest to her gently. "We didn't know the Hunter had gotten you. It was so loud, with the Infected and the gunfire. Coach and I didn't realize you weren't standin' with us until we heard Nick yell. When we looked back, Nick was blowin' holes through the zombies around you, trying to get to the Hunter. I'm guessing he was afraid to shoot it while it was on top of you, so he shoved it off with the butt of his gun. The Hunter got him pretty good in the leg before Nick killed it.'

"By the time Coach and I made it over to you, Nick already had you draped over his shoulder. All he said was that we needed to find a safe house." Rochelle pauses and squeezes his hand. "I ain't ever seen him so shaken up before. He was whiter than his suit used to be. We didn't question it, just hurried to find a safe house.'

"We found this house," the woman motions to their surroundings with her free hand. "As soon as we were through the door, Nick had you lying on the floor while he went lookin' for a med kit."

Rochelle goes quiet then, her eyes getting a haunted look to them. Ellis positions his hand so that he can squeeze her fingers gently, affectively freeing her from her thoughts. Although, when she looks up at him that haunted look is still evident in her eyes. "Ro'?"

She sighs softly and looks at him sadly. "You were cut up something awful. We couldn't tell where you were injured you were bleeding so badly."

Ellis swallows around a developing lump in his throat and winces slightly when the action causes that wound at his throat to ache. He remembers feeling blood pooling on his chest and sticking to his shirt.

"After Nick found a kit, we carried you to the bathroom. Coach tried to help Nick clean you up, but he wouldn't have any of it. It's kind of strange. Nick cleaned you up, bandaged you, carried you hear so you could sleep, and didn't leave your side once until now." Rochelle seems to ponder this a moment, as does Ellis. "Anyway, after Nick cleaned you up, we were able to assess your injuries better. You had some nasty gashes on your chest and an equally nasty one on the left side of your neck. Luckily the wound on your neck wasn't too deep, or you probably wouldn't be with us now, but you weren't so lucky about the ones on your chest. They weren't all deep, but a few of 'em needed stitches." She lightly placed a finger over the area of his heart, careful not to put any pressure on it so as not to cause him any pain. "This one here was the deepest. It took five stitches."

Ellis can't stand the sad look in her eyes. He always feels horribly about his newfound friends worrying over him, which is why more times than not he keeps his injuries to himself. "Guess I'm lucky I was out cold then, huh?"

The woman smiles sweetly at him and nods. "Boy, you're right about that."

The silence that fills the room isn't as heavy as it was before. Rochelle rubs her thumb in circles against his hand, and the touch is more calming than anything he can think of. However, it reminds him of his mama, and the thought causes a different kind of pain to blossom through his chest. Instead he ponders over what Rochelle had told him. The one thing that sticks out is Nick's actions.

He decides to verbalize his thoughts. "I wonder why Nick was acting so strange."

"Boy, it ain't the first time he's gotten bent out of shape because of you being hurt."

Ellis looks at the woman like she's grown a second head, a disgustingly infected zombie head at that.

"Don't give me that look like you don't know what I'm talking about. Who's the first person to heal you when you get injured?"

The mechanic is surprised to realize that it's Nick. Whenever he gets hurt by the Special Infected he falls victim to Nick is the one to heal him. Sometimes, when he thinks he's doing a grand ole job at hiding his injuries from the other three members of their group, Nick somehow knows that he's injured and heals him before Ellis can say another word about it. He's not sure why he never noticed it before.

"And who is the one always protecting you?" Ellis must have given her a confused look, because Rochelle chuckles lightly. "You never noticed it? It's really rather endearing, in a weird sort of way. He almost always has an eye on you when we're outside, even more so when we're fighting. In fact, I'm surprised he didn't realize sooner that that Hunter had gotten hold of you."

Ellis ponders this new information. He honestly doesn't know what to think. He had always thought that the conman hated him, but the way Rochelle was talking about the older man now it almost seemed as if he cared. Ellis's mind immediately reprimands him for even thinking such; reminding him that Nick has told them numerous times how much he _doesn't_ care.

Rochelle pats his hand. "Well, Ellis, sweetie, I think it's time you tried to go back to sleep. You need as much rest as you can get."

The young man nods absent-mindedly, and with Rochelle's help settles back into a lying position in the bed. Once comfortably situated, Ellis closes his eyes. He feels Rochelle running her finger gently through his hair, and within minutes Ellis is asleep.

Ellis stumbles around outside, searching desperately for a first aid kit. A Tank had stumbled upon their little group and had thoroughly thrashed them. Rochelle was suffering from a concussion, and Nick had injured his right arm after the zombie-on-steroids and knocked him around a few times. They were out of pain pills, and Nick's arm needed bandaged; he just hoped the conman's arm wasn't broken. He continues searching for the little, red box through the wreckage of the ghost town; although it technically wasn't a ghost town, since it was inhabited by zombies.

After several minutes – that really feel more like hours – of wondering aimlessly and searching an abandoned house, Ellis happens upon a med kit. If he wasn't so terrified of alerting a nearby zombie he would have whooped in joy. As it is, he merely grabs the kit and runs off towards the safe room. It was twenty minutes before the mechanic saw the familiar red, steel door that symbolized safety. Even though his body was protesting from the strain, Ellis pumped his legs harder so he'd make it to the safe room quicker. However, he wasn't quick enough.

Ellis hears growling from somewhere to his right, and his blood runs cold. He's not even sure his heart is still beating. 'No,' he thinks as he desperately tries to push his legs even harder to get to the safe room. 'No, no, no! I can't get stopped by no Hunter! Nick and Ro' need me to get back to the safe room; they need this med kit!' At the thought of the first aid, he clenches tighter onto the kit in his hands.

He's so close to the safe house now, but the growling is getting even louder. He's afraid to look around him, because he's afraid he'll see that terrifying, crouched form.

He's sure he's going to make it. He can see inside the safe house now. He can't be more than forty or so feet from that steel door.

It's then he hears that all-too-familiar shriek echo throughout the area. On instinct, his head jerks to the side so that he can look for the danger. He eyes widen in horror and he raises his pistol to shoot the leaping form, but he soon realizes the barrel of the gun is empty, as it merely clicks hollowly as he presses down on the trigger. He's positive this time that his heart stops beating; and then the Hunter is on top of him.

The wind is knocked out of him as he lands on his back, and the med kit he had clutched onto so desperately skids out of his hands. He reaches in vain for it, even as the Hunter raises it's clawed hands, because damn it Nick and Rochelle _need_ it. He feels the Hunter rip into his chest, and Ellis screams. He tries to push the zombie off of him, but the damned thing has it legs planted firmly on either side of his thighs.

He's trapped.

The mechanic covers his face and prays for Coach, Rochelle, Nick, or _somebody_ to realize his predicament, but nobody comes.

He once more tries to knock off the zombie a top of him, but his attempts prove futile. He catches a glimpse of the Hunter's ghastly face, and he screams.

It isn't until he feels hands on his shoulders shaking him and hears a gruff voice saying his name that Ellis realizes he'd been dreaming. It didn't feel like a dream. The wounds on his chest and neck feel as if they're on fire, and he whimpers. He even feels a few tears leaking from his tightly closed eyes.

He hears the door open, followed closely by Rochelle's urgent and worried voice.

"He's fine," comes Nick's impassive answer. "Just a nightmare."

Ellis can't help but feel ridiculous when he hears the older man say this. He feels like a little kid again, being scolded by his father for having nightmares "at his age."

The door closes, letting the mechanic know that he's alone in the room with Nick.

Ellis opens his eyes and wipes at his eyes, grimacing as pain laces through his upper body. He watches Nick settle back into the chair still situated right by his bed. The younger male can't help but wonder when the conman had came back to his room to watch over him.

Nick wordlessly unscrews the cap on the bottle of pain pills and hands a few of its contents over to him. Ellis graciously takes them and eagerly washes them down with the bottle of water handed to him.

Afterwards, the room is filled with the familiar, tense silence. However, this time Ellis is too distraught to worry over it. The nightmare is still fresh in his mind; more precisely the horrifying face of the Hunter is looming ominously in his mind's eye. He's positive that sight will haunt him even long after they're rescued and safe from any zombie attacks.

For a long time Ellis struggles to not think about the fearsome creature that had nearly killed him in both the waking and sleeping world. However, his mind soon begins to wonder into more troubling areas. He soon finds himself once again pondering the whereabouts and wellbeing of his mother and friends. Surely someone like Keith would have been able to fend off a creature such as a Hunter, especially if he has Dave with him, but someone as feeble as his mama surely would have easily fallen prey to the monstrosity; and Keith wouldn't be able to fight off a Hunter if he was already injured. As indestructible as the man liked to pretend he was, he was still only human.

What if they hadn't made it to a CEDA evac unit safely? Ellis tries to remember when the last time was that he had seen his friends or his mother, but the horror of the last weeks have left the rest of his memory more or less a blur. He vaguely remembers that his mama had been getting sickly before the infection had taken over Savannah. What if his mother had fallen victim to the infection and was now a brainless zombie? What if Keith and Dave had suffered the same fate? Ellis whimpers as his thoughts plague his mind.

"What are you whining about? You got pills. Go back to sleep," Nick says harshly.

Ellis tries to muffle the noises, but they escape from his throat anyway.

"What the hell are you crying about?"

The mechanic frowns. "'M not cryin'."

Nick snorts. "Of course you're not."

"'M not!" Ellis frowns and tries to turn on his side away from the conman, but the action makes his wounds throb and he hisses.

The older man sighs and settles him back onto his back, muttering something that sounds an awful lot like "moron" under his breath.

Ellis frowns up at the ceiling, brows scrunched together. He wishes Nick would be nicer, because he really likes the man. He knows his wishes are useless, though.

The younger once again finds his mind wondering in dark places when silence permeates the room. He fills his throat tightening at his thoughts, causing the wound at his throat to protest. He sighs in exasperation and wishes more than anything that Nick wasn't such an ass. He hates the silence and what it causes his mind to ponder and stew over. He hates the fact that the older man always shuts him down when he tries to strike up a conversation. He hates that the older man always silences him when he tries to talk about random things or retell stories about his friend Keith.

But more than anything, Ellis hates the silence.

Deciding that the silence is more of a threat than the conman's anger, Ellis clears his throat. "Why you always gotta be so ornery?"

The younger man doesn't fail to notice how Nick pinches the bridge of his nose. "Why do _you_ always have to fucking talk?"

Ellis weighs the pros and cons of giving the man an answer, although he knows it was meant more as a statement than anything. He finally decides that it really wouldn't hurt anything to tell the man. "It's 'cos I can't stand the silence."

Nick snorts. "God forbid you go a goddamned five minutes without talking."

The mechanic chooses to ignore the man's snarky reply. "If I'm not talkin', I get'a thinkin'. Talkin' helps me not'a think about all the bad stuff goin' on… or 'bout the possibility that my ma and friends may not be safe."

"Hate to break it to you, kid, but your pals and such are all probably cannibalistic, brain-munching zombies by now."

The words sting, and Ellis feels the pain lace deeply within his chest, beneath the lacerations caused by the Hunter. "Why are you always so cold?"

Nick shrugs and keeps his eyes on the wall, where the sunlight highlights the dirty and horrid condition of the once pristine structure. "That's just the way I am. I don't know what you're expecting from me, but I'm not gonna be your new best friend or anything. I don't care about what you have to say or what your problems are. I don't care about _you_. Sorry if that bothers you, kid." He didn't sound sorry at all.

The mechanic finds himself thinking back on what Rochelle had told him about Nick when he awoke initially. "Then why d'ya watch out for me? And patch me up when I get hurt?" It doesn't go past the younger man's attention the way the conman seizes up. "Ro' told me 'bout how you was the one who rescued me from that Hunter… and 'bout how you healed me up an' wouldn't let Coach or Ro' help with nothin'." He notices the other man tensing up, and he feels a kind of excitement building up inside. "If you don't care 'bout me, then why you–"

"Shut up, Overalls."

"No." Ellis doesn't know where this defiance is coming from, but it's quite liberating. He's tired of being pushed around by the conman. Damn it, he wants some answers. "I ain't shuttin' up until you start tellin' me why you always act to ornery an' all when you clearly ca–"

"Shut _up_."

This time Ellis does; the tone of the other man's voice warning him that whether he's injured or not, the conman'll rip him a new one if he doesn't stop talking.

They sit in a tense silence, Nick glaring at the wall and Ellis sadly looking down at the threadbare cover lying over his lap. The silence is only broken by Rochelle knocking on the door and softly announcing that lunch is ready. The idea of any kind of food, even though it's probably only something like stale bread or crackers, sounds more than appetizing to the mechanic, and Ellis's stomach growls loudly in answer to Rochelle's announcement. The younger looks up at the conman and smiles sheepishly; it's not as if he can necessarily get up and get his own food in the state he's in. The very idea sends shudders down his spine, which he regrets doing as it causes his wounds to ache.

He huffs in annoyance. He's really getting irritated by his wounds. Stupid Hunter.

Nick sighs and rises from his chair, making his way to the door. Ellis watches him go, noticing the way the man favors his right side, and he remembers Rochelle telling him how the Hunter had gone at Nick's leg. The remembrance of the other man's rescue causes him to ache. He can't help but yearn for the older man to just say something even semi-nice to him. He doesn't understand why the man can't seem to admit that he cares.

"Stay there," the conman tells him, although it's not like Ellis had any intentions of getting up. He'd rather avoid pain at all costs, thank you very much. "I'll be back in a sec."

Ellis looks dejectedly down at the cover. He's not sure what he had been hoping for. Some grand confession that the conman cares about his wellbeing? The very idea almost makes the mechanic laugh, but instead an ache starts up in his chest. The pain isn't from his wounds this time.

After several minutes of not hearing the door open, Ellis looks up to see Nick still standing at the door. He can't help but wonder if the conman is hesitating. The dark-haired man glances back at him, and Ellis offers him a small smile – although he's not really sure why.

Nick looks back to the door and shifts from one foot to the other awkwardly. "If those redneck friends of yours are anywhere near as indestructible as you make them out to be in all of those damn stories, then I'm sure a zombie apocalypse isn't a danger to them… and I'm sure they'd keep your mother safe."

Ellis isn't sure he heard the man right. "Nick?" He asks tentatively, just to be safe.

The conman jerks the door open. "And I watch out for your stupid ass because you're the only one in this group besides me that's decent with a gun. I need someone to keep my own ass safe. Don't get any stupid ideas into your head." With that the conman closes the door loudly behind him.

It takes a moment for the words to sink in, but soon Ellis is grinning like an idiot. In the beginning of their journey, Nick had made it perfectly clear that he didn't trust a single one of them to keep his jacket safe, much less his actual person. It's not exactly the confession Ellis was hoping for, but he supposes he can settle for now.

When Nick comes back into the room Ellis is still grinning like a fool.


End file.
